Mending Fences
by daisherz365
Summary: They are connected whether he likes to openly admit it or not. He does at a time but this road they've been on has been rocky. Now, more than ever he has to mend the bits that he can. (A s4 fic collection)
1. Grin and Bare It

**Mending Fences**

 **A series 4 fic collection**

*won't always fit the mold of canon but for the first handful that I've written I was inspired from what we got from the show

* * *

1\. **Grin and Bare It…** (An alternative take on the scene between Molly/Sherlock at the end of Thatchers)

Sherlock stood across from Molly and his goddaughter who she was holding with a blank face although his heart felt like it was caving in on him.

John didn't want to see him. He did want him. Anyone else. That's what he said. He had made Molly tell him that. The one person who wouldn't want to turn him away if she could help it.

From the tears in her eyes he could tell that she wanted anything but to do that.

He was having a similiar set of emotions run through him. He hated that a sudden moment had left him here once again inclined to walk away from the one person who he needed more than anyone else. He wanted to reach out to her and tuck the loose strands from out of her face.

She looked exhausted. With...Mary… he gave himself pause knowing that a part of him was lingering because she was the only woman who could see right through him. Who would want to be with him despite all his faults. She had always pushed him to be better. However even with that there were some things she was pushed to do as to not further damage friendships that she had.

He originally began to turn to leave but took half a step back towards her and pressed his mouth to her brow. He looked down at Rosie and swallowed a heavy gulp before meeting Molly's gaze again.

"Take care of her for me." He managed to get out. " _Him_." He added hoarsely.

"I'm…" She began only for him to jerk his head.

"No. Don't do that. It's not your fault. He wants what he wants. I probably would do something similar if I was in his shoes…" He gave her a knowing look with a barely there smile as he had most certainly let something slip that he had never spoken to her or anyone about.

He had taken a step back. It was odd that he had never thought that it suited her; having a baby in her arms. She was alike him in so many ways but this was the one thing that he realized fit her. She was a loving person - she was a fiercely passionate woman, he corrected himself. If she had a niece or a nephew that he hadn't known about he thought it made sense.

He gave her one last broken smile as he nodded at her before turning away. He didn't think he could handle one more second. It hurt too much. It all did.

At least Rosie had Molly. She need someone pure. Molly Hooper was definitely that. She was many things that he had said yes too in and out of their unorthodox relationship that barely reached where he wanted it to.

Someday he supposed. Once the dust settled. There was another east wind coming and she didn't deserve to disappear if she got swept up in it.

 _Someday_ , he thought again.

* * *

 **I'm off to PAX South tomorrow but thought I'd give you a little something while I'm off being a dweeb irl with friends. S4 gave me a lot to ponder on, angst first and then well we'll see. Sorry to have to kept you guys waiting but I hope you enjoy my little deviations here and there. The next one is a bit more spicy ;)**

 **I would love to hear your thoughts.**

 **much love,**

 **day**


	2. Sirens

2\. **Sirens** \- (my take on what could have happened in the ambulance. Just a dash of spice. Hope you enjoy.)

He already knew that she was angry but there was confusion there too after she made sure hadn't quite killed himself. He was close but he hadn't reached the overdose yet. It didn't help matters much but he thought that it was better for all parties that he didn't do that. That wasn't his goal.

"Molly." He said lowly trying to catch her attention. She was currently tossing instruments in and out of the places that they had been originally in a way of dispelling some of her annoyance but she was still very bothered by him.

"What?" She shouted, uncaring that the men in the front would hear her. They were to be trusted and knew exactly who they were dealing with - Doctor Molly Hooper not Sherlock 'Really fucking High' Holmes. She was more lethal than he could ever be at this point.

"Can I explain?" He sighed, he was getting a headache. It wasn't her. He had over shot by a mile.

"Would it make a difference? Because I'm tired. I've been up for the past couple weeks with a child that isn't mine and I adore her I do but I wish _she_ hadn't died." She immediately tried to start apologizing as if he didn't already know that she wasn't shouting at him or even completely mad at him (she was just not happy about the friend they lost). She truly was exhausted.

"Sit with me." He replied encouragingly as she looked at him he allowed her to see every bit of him, he wouldn't be able to hide regardless. He reached for her hand once she was sitting on the gurney next to him. He found her pulse rather quickly. It was strong and thriving just like her. _Good_ , he thought.

"I cared for her a great deal. Mary. More than John most of the time though I tried to give him some credit for finding her first, after all I was dead to him before we were properly introduced. She was interesting. Someone who cared more about me than what I was thinking - everyone sees me as a machine - although it made her laugh a lot when I said things offhand in my very far away place. Silly things as you said before. But, I don't think he cares that I loved Mary. He's angry. That won't change but I hope he hasn't taken that out on you. You're helpful to Rosie, to _me_ …" He felt her relax next to him.

"I hate that you only call me for medical advice." She brushed a hand over her face as she mumbled it.

"Not true. I asked about Rosie the other night."

"That was on Twitter Sherlock. I wasn't even online. Every year you get more into the vast web. It's kind of amusing." She giggled.

"Real life bores me sometimes. I need something fresh, new to tinker with now and then."

Molly lifts her head to see that he's been looking at her. "Come outside of your walls then. You're bound to find something there, Sherlock Holmes."

He nods. He realizes there are very few moments where they're willingly in the same space like this anymore. It's compact. No one but them there. No one to interrupt. To stop a single moment from taking place.

It's why it's so easy for him to bend down and take her lips between his teeth tugging her into his universe. Molly doesn't shy away but she is careful as she slips her tongue into his mouth. She uses her loose hand to slip her hands into his hair. His curls aren't as full of energy as they used to be but she's okay with it.

She's learned to adapt with him or she'll be left behind. It's something she worries of often.

They take their time exploring each other's mouths. They part when he feels the vehicle coming to a halt. He leaves a tender peck on her mouth as he retreats.

"Found it." He mumbles as the back doors open and he stumbles out. She trails out slowly trying to gather her wits and comb her hands through her hair to fix what she can.

As he's ushered into talking to Culverton he gives her one long lingering look. He would have stayed inside that small space with her for an undetermined amount of time. He wanted to do that again, kissing her - enjoying the feel of her moans and sighs as both venture for something better than what they got out of those ten minutes - preferably when he wasn't high again.

Molly tasted chocolate on her lips. She hadn't noticed that until she has been left alone. Was that what he had been consuming before all of that?

She had a lot on her mind now. So many questions that she wanted to talk to him about.

 _Later_ , she nodded to herself as she slipped back inside the back doors.

* * *

 **I had a great weekend away with friends. I hope you like my take on what could have happened in The Lying Detective. There will be more pieces from that episode with various characters but they'll come later.**

 **Next up are probably two parts exclusive to the I Love You scene and it's aftermath. Still writing it currently but I endeavor to make it worth it in the end.**

 **Anyhow let me know what you thought of this one and I'll see you then.**

 **much love,**

 **day**


	3. A Long Night

3\. **A Long Night - The I Love You Aftermath (Part One)**

Molly hadn't truly been sure when it was she made it back home relatively in one piece. Only that she felt as if she had one of the worst days in the history of her time in London. She had thought of just crawling into bed and turning her mobile off as to not be bothered but she never knew if there would be an emergency autopsy that needed to be rushed or a call from John to look after Rosie she didn't want to miss it, even despite her demeanor she was still there for anybody else. She was more than happy to do the latter of the choices if given a choice of the two.

However no one should have been contacting her. She had just left Bart's and took a taxi home. She rarely got behind the wheel of her beat up Bug anymore. She didn't have a lot of reason to when she lived fairly close to her place of work.

She settled for a nice big glass of wine and takeaway she had picked up the night before. The old lady who owned the place had come to enjoy Molly's company on the rare chance she was able to sit in the small restaurant for a spell of food. She loved their spring rolls.

Molly hadn't noticed the extra two rolls she discovered when replating her leftovers to heat up for consumption. She made a note on the memo pad attached to her fridge to thank her the next time she went in.

It was small things like that that made Molly smile after long days like hers. Made the heartache of having to do certain things less horrible even if it didn't completely erase it from her memories.

So when she was out of sorts still the following day having gotten very little sleep; a call from Sherlock came requesting her to do something worse than anything he's ever prompted her to do. She broke even. It really shouldn't have been much a surprise.

She hated him. She really did. How could someone who at times shine so brightly continue to ignore the fact that he had an effect on her.

 _Say it anyway._

Molly would have punched him if had been in the same room as her. She would have throttled him as if he had asked for a fight from her specifically. It was only right that she try to salvage what was left of her dignity and make him say it first. It was a truly hollow request but if he wanted her to confess what was in her heart for a bloody case then he was going to have to do something for her.

He had tried to plead with her. Was it truly that dire?

 _Say it anyway. If it's true. It shouldn't matter._

 _You first._

 _What?_

She would have loved to see his face. The lost boy who he turned into when he was confused. She adored that man. Not this one. This man was aggravating and had no idea when to stop.

 _Say it like you mean it._

The silence between them gave her room to stomach the pain that was this entire situation. He called her his friend and yet he had forgotten the basic rule for a friendship. It takes two parts for it to coexist. She hadn't felt friendliness come from him in weeks. He neglected her unless it involved John or Rosie. He hadn't elected to come to the lab in awhile. The one she had helped set up in 221b had been his playard.

It tore her up inside to know that if it wasn't for her job he wouldn't have become acquainted with her at all.

 _I...I love you._

She shut her eyes trying to hold onto this feeling a little bit longer. Then came the second phrasing.

 _I love you._

What was that song called? Once More With More Feeling.

She could feel herself breaking down. She felt the weight of the truth in his heart. He wasn't lying but he didn't have room to expound on this. Not now. This was always the spot she found herself in.

 _Molly. Please._

She barely spoke it aloud before ending the call. She didn't want to hear him thank her if he felt inclined to do so. She set her phone down and walked out of the room.

Now the phone could die and she wouldn't give a damn.

That was the same spot her phone was sitting when Sherlock picked the lock and let himself in the next day.

Molly had been in the shower, unaware that he was inside of her home. He was fine with waiting for her.

Sherlock didn't make himself at home instead walking towards the kitchen where she had stood when they shared the mutual truth. He had little time to think of her with Eurus invading his life and not leaving until he took on her case of madness and sorrow. She was his sister but there were some things he could never forgive her for.

Attempting to kill several people that mattered to him in the same day was one of them. The other lay with his aching heart.

He instinctively went to her fridge and read her loopy handwriting of a reminder to speak to someone called Mrs. Chang. He didn't recall knowing the person. So he moved on reaching for the handle of the door.

He didn't get to open it. Molly had discovered him.

"What are you doing here?" The lack of cheer in her voice was expected but to look at her face and see the obvious detachment of the situation was another.

He frowned as he moved over to the spot where her phone lay. He had noticed it earlier but decided to leave it until he found a use for it. "I thought we should discuss what happened yesterday."

Molly scoffed. "What's there to talk about, Sherlock? How you pushed me too far for the sake of some stupid case? Nothing you've done has ever wounded me as much as you did then."

"I don't think an apology will work in this situation."

She gave him a half hearted smirk. "Looks like you can still read me like a book."

He shook his head as he picked up her phone and fiddled with it in his hands. His was in evidence until the dust settled. His brother had tried to get it but Sherlock didn't want it just yet. He had more pressing matters to turn to.

"If I could at any point I would have found a way to protect you more...from me."

Molly stood there waiting for him to continue. She knew there was more.

"There was no case. I thought you were going to be killed."

"How does that make up for it?"

He nodded, knowing that she was right. "I haven't treated you right in a very long time. Like a friend would." He drew a deep breath before continuing on.

Molly decided to talk then. She wanted to address that specifically. "What qualifies me as your friend? You never quite need me for anything more than anything work related. Plus friends don't hurt each other like you-we have."

He noticed the shift in her voice. She was getting less angry and more tired of a great many things. He took this as a good point to approach her. Stilling his hands from messing about with her phone, he walked around the bar so that he could stand in front of her. He kept three feet between them incase he somehow made things worse in the next five minutes.

Molly wore an old university sweatshirt that he had seen her in many times. A pair of denim shorts adorned her legs. He kept his eyes on her face knowing that anything else would be too much of a distraction and she would know that he was thinking of something else entirely. He wanted to focus on her in this moment; it was important to him. If he messed this up like everything else he would not be able to fix it. There was no do-overs in real time. He would spend forever trying to undo the hurt that he had done to her until all the groveling he would inevitably do would be enough to lead to something more.

"You've never hurt me. The one time you smacked-ah-slapped me actually saved my life. Never told you that, did I?" He paused, giving her a small smile as he stretched out her phone for her to take.

Molly looked at him. Really stared at him. He was dressed oddly in jeans in a cotton grey t-shirt. It was such a rare sight that she nearly did a double take. He didn't appear to be hiding a thing from her, however.

She accepted the phone, stowing it in her pocket while never looking away. "No. You didn't. How did it save you?"

"Helped me focus after Mary shot me."

" **Jesus**." She drew in a deep breath. "Why do you always have to do that? Why am I always the last to know anything?"

"You were the first one to know I had to kill myself."

"Not that. I'm talking about stuff that affects people I care about. I didn't know she shot you. I didn't know much about her. She seemed nice."

"She is...she was. It was a misunderstanding. Same way she died. I suppose her deciding to jump in front of a bullet for me also had something to do with that."

"That I knew." She croaked. Out of all the things she had been told about that. John had hammered that in in between telling her he hated Sherlock immediately after Mary's demise. "But why does that matter now?"

"I'm trying to give shot of honesty. You deserve it. You deserve more. I'm trying to do as much as I can so that you understand how it does affect me that you could have died. That I would have been powerless to that because I was going through a sick trial to break me into pieces. You were a rather definite part, I pummeled a coffin after you hung up."

"Why?"

Sherlock took a step in her direction but didn't go any further. He bowed his head, eyes screwed shut as he replayed his thought process when it had been revealed that she wasn't in any danger at all.

He had been angry. He had felt the pain barreling down on him at the thought of having to bury her. He didn't want to ever do that. He wouldn't be able to cope without her. She kept him together. Made him sane. He was aware now that he had kept too much of her worth to himself that he was blinded by his own feelings and thoughts about her until it crushed them both.

"Molly…" His voice cracked. He felt the tremors in his shoulder as he began to properly break down in front of her.

It was so sudden that Molly almost didn't react to it. She had forgotten how quickly he could come undone. It wasn't the first time he had done it in her flat. But it was the first time she wasn't completely sure if she should help him.

She couldn't help thinking that maybe he needed this. So she let him feel it. _All of it_. He had spent too much time trying to appear closed off that it was killing him from within.

When he found her eyes again he looked more centered if not still cracked. She was used to that. "I did it. I said it first."

Molly swallowed. "Should you have?"

"Yes."

"To save me?"

He shook his head. Taking the second step. "No. Yes. I should have admitted it sooner - to myself, to you because it's true."

He couldn't read her face. He wasn't expecting anything explosive but he wanted to at least know that she understood that he wasn't playing games anymore. He couldn't move forward if they - if he didn't deal with this.

There was silence between them for so long he nearly took the last step to invade her space but he held back as he noticed the way she added more force to her bawled up fist between her folded arms.

"It's not like it is in the movies. If I accept this we can't just pretend that the circumstances of that moment were less than ideal."

"I agree. That's why I'm here. I didn't even shower before coming over. I was wearing this yesterday when we got back to Baker Street. It's a mess right now, mind you."

"What happened to it?" He knew that she didn't believe the story of it being another gas leak. That was just something for the media.

"A drone carrying a bomb that the government uses from time to time. My sister wanted my attention."

"Sister?" He could see her brain whirring.

"Yes. I had forgotten her due to trauma from my childhood. To put it delicately she set fire to our family home and killed my best friend. I blocked it from my memory without realising it."

"I'm sorry." She wanted more details but not tonight.

"It's fine. She's the one who called you."

Understanding hit her brown eyes, she bit her lip as she thought of what to say next.

"Where is she?"

"Back in the institute where she needs to be for the time being. She did kill a number of people during her game."

" _No, it's not a game. I need you to help me._ That's what you said. It was her game wasn't it? To get us here. To make you confront your emotions."

" _Emotional context_. That's how she put it." He passed a hand down his face and drew in a deep breath. "It doesn't change anything."

Molly hummed to herself looking at the ground as she shifted on her feet from side to side. "I think it does. I need time to process, to think. You always dissect the variables I think that's what I need to do before we - I decide anything." She paused as she lifted her head to look back up to him she smiled a little at him. "Thank you for coming here. I may not have wanted you here. I am glad you came on your own."

He swallowed, nodding before speaking one final time. "Take your time, Molly. You know where to find me."

Her smile reappeared on her face. "I do."

Sherlock slipped towards the door intending to leave her; give her space.

"You're the only one who hasn't given me up. My mother said I didn't try hard enough with anyone."

Without turning back to her he responded. "No offense to your mother but it's their loss. You're worth the trouble." _That I'll no doubt get into._

He was gone after that.

Molly let out a sigh with a mostly content smile plastered on her face as she went to pour herself a glass of wine. She meant it too when she said she needed time. Years ago it would have been easy to just jump right into something with Sherlock Holmes. She had been meek and naive for the first couple years. She gained her strength when he wasn't paying much attention and it all led them to the phone call. It mattered that it happened, it matter that she knew why it happened, and she was grateful that he was more than willing to tell her the truth. He could have lied, in fact he had been forced to lie in some way to her to get her to say the three words. This fact she couldn't let be.

He used to manipulate her. Everyone assumed she wasn't aware of this fact but it was because of it that their relationship had shifted into something more akin to companionship. He took and she stopped letting him. He tried to hide and she let him know that she saw him. She stopped hiding too. She was no longer in the background.

This was the second thing she had grappled with. Being in the front without being on the sidelines. Being wanted had a crippling effect on her because there had only been one other person who cared for her in this way and he had died many moons ago.

Her father.

He was a different sort of man. He had always encouraged her pursuits in science and ignored her mother when she tried to dissuade her from seeking the answers from dead animals, insects and the like. He found her funny sayings rather endearing to the very end.

 _Don't make jokes, Molly._

Yes, Sherlock was different than her father but he was similar in the ways that mattered.

 _Someday there will be a person who understands you, Molly. And what others say won't matter because your value will be appreciated with warmth and acceptance. There will be no need to be like anyone else but yourself. They'll want you for who you are - the beautiful woman I know you are turning into so you hold tight in the meantime. You won't feel alone forever._

Molly had her legs held close to her chest as she sat on the floor against her sofa and downed the rest of her wine. "Is this what you meant, Dad? Is the pain of loving someone who took a decade to sort through his emotional baggage what I was waiting for?"

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She was still fragile even though she appeared to be strong. Her strength came in waves and tonight that wave had drawn up short.

For a moment she thought she saw a blonde woman sitting near her on the other side of the room smiling, but when she blinked she was gone. The echo of the familiar voice sounded real enough.

" _You know the answer to that one. You're not a quitter. It's what I like about you."_

Mary.

Molly placed her glass down and drew in slow steady breaths as she combed her hands through her damp hair. She wasn't crazy but she sure felt like she was a bit chipped somewhere inside.

"Not a quitter, yeah." She replied to the open room.

Sherlock was starting to adapt to these family meetings the three Holmes' had from outside the glass of Eurus' chamber in Sherrinford. He would have liked not to discuss things on an isolated island considering it was also where he had been pushed to his limits a few weeks ago. But some things couldn't be left for later. He had learned that in a five minute interval.

"Well? Is there anything more that we don't know about?" Mummy asked as they were getting ready to leave once again.

Mycroft said nothing while Sherlock drew in a deep breath. He had just packed away his violin for the second time. This was only the second meeting but Sherlock imagined there would be many more in the coming moments.

"Yes. There is one thing."

"Really Sherlock? You too?" His father asked in surprise. They had thought he was the one they should count on considering their eldest choices for the past several years.

"It's nothing drastic. I have something new possibly happening in my personal life."

He noted Mycroft's face. He looked uncomfortable and rather amused at the same time.

"Don't keep us waiting, Sherlock." Eurus chimed in quietly.

He rolled his eyes but turned following to face his mother. "I am in love with Molly Hooper."

If it wasn't just them in the room the reaction that came from both Eurus and his mother's vocal chords was enough to cause a spectacle. Eurus was giggling, "Oh, I knew it!"

"Molly? Where have I heard that name before?"

"She's the pathologist brother works with at the lab. I've mentioned her at least twice." Mycroft clarified.

"She's much more than that, Mycroft. She's his heart. I hadn't been completely sure about that during the games." She smirked.

"Eurus do try not to seem too happy that you threatened to kill the woman I care about." Sherlock flared.

"This is good news. Minus the killing." Mummy said quietly. "When will we meet her?"

"You won't. Yet. I'm giving her time. She's been through the ringer with me and I owe her time to figure out if she still wants me after everything that has happened."

"Your history is difficult I take it?" His father asked with hesitancy.

"Quite so I'm afraid."

"You want to get it right…" Eurus said dreamily as if this was a fantasy of hers. Sherlock attempted not to react to it but nodded all the same.

"I'm glad for you, William." Mummy told him as they took off in the helicopter once more.

He said nothing because he didn't know if there was anything to be glad about. Not until he heard from Molly Hooper himself.

Until then he would keep busy with work and his goddaughter who was the best thing to come out of this whole debacle. He had a sister, a child to make silly faces at and someone that when he thought of was the warmth that kept his heart from freezing completely.

He hated waiting but like Eurus said he needed to get this part right.

* * *

 **Currently on my way to get my hair dyed but I really wanted to get this up before then. Cutting it close actually but anyways I have had this one stewing my noggin for awhile. I hope you guys like my different approach. Let me know what you think of it, please.**

 **See you for the second part.**

 **much love,**

 **day**


	4. Finding the Answer

4\. **Finding the Answer The I Love You Aftermath (Part Two)**

Molly was all too familiar with the act of waiting for someone. She didn't intend to spend so much time mulling over Sherlock and what she required should they move forward with their relationship or what could be different if they did.

Two weeks had passed by within a blink of an eye. However the morning she decided to reach out to him coincided with a day that she was scheduled to go back home to Cardiff. She was staying for the weekend. Everyone at the lab had already known from the years before that this was more of a personal matter than Molly actually having to take the time off for a break.

Twenty two years ago she lost her dad. She had been about to head to London when he passed. She almost didn't go. She was unsure and afraid but knowing that her dad would want her to go pushed her forward. He had always pushed her in the right direction. It was during this year of mourning and reflection that she found herself wishing that there was some way to talk to him.

She needed his guidance once more. She wondered if it would have made a difference to talk to a man who left her too in his own way. There was those similarities between the man she still loved and a man who had always loved her unconditionally.

She shut her eyes, her mother was watching her. They didn't really talk much anymore but it was clear that something was troubling her thirty something year old daughter. It wasn't just her missing her father. It was something more current and distressing.

"Molly…" She started hesitantly. It had been months since she tried to find out what was going on in her daughter's life. She knew that she wasn't exactly good at this. Never had been. Molly had been very much her father's daughter. Truth be told Wilma Hooper hadn't been the biggest supporter of her daughter's career choice.

In her defense none of her friends' children grew up in the science field. Molly was the odd one out and Wilma had always had a hard time grasping with that. She felt that her only daughter could do so much more. But, it didn't mean she hadn't collected all her achievements in an album. The latest one was from six months ago. She didn't understand much of what she had written for the journal but she had read it at least six times hearing Molly's obvious passion more than what she was trying to elicit to her peers.

"Is everything alright in London?" It could have been a harmless question if it wasn't for the fact that she was aware of her close association with the one man who seemed to always get in trouble. For awhile she assumed Molly would finally get a shot of having a fair chance without him, she had a fiance.

That hadn't last. Molly refused to tell her why but she didn't need her to. It always came back to the lanky detective with a cunning intellect and brutal tongue. She had read enough about him to know that he wasn't the kindest man she had ever heard of.

However, she knew that this didn't mean she knew who he really was. Journalism is often exaggerated, a point that she had learned when Molly was a teenager and had been caught up in a slight scandal that involved finding and dissecting a corpse within a home of one of the richer families. She wasn't even in uni yet. Luckily it was one of the times where Molly was actually asked to do it, and not because she was intrigued.

"London is fine, mum. I'm thinking about an answer I need to give someone when I go back."

"What was it your Dad always said? Making decisions are better done on neutral soil." She saw her daughter's surprised reaction to her reciting something from her previous husband. "I did love him, you know. Before you came into the world we spent so much time together. I keep a lot of the things he said with me. It makes it easier to live without him. I know you think I didn't care when he died but the truth is it was one of the hardest things I had to go through. He left me to try to sort through everything, to have to find a way to interact with you and I know I've been terrible at being a good mother Molly. I'm not an idiot."

"I know you're not. Just because dad was the scientist doesn't mean he married someone who wasn't up to his speed. He said he loved your heart, I just haven't ever found it the same way he did."

Wilma Hooper grimaced knowing that this was going to be a process. But, if she could start now maybe it would help Molly somehow too. "I know that's my fault. I had a hard time connecting with your interests. Death has never interest me. It's only brought me pain."

Oddly enough Molly actually agreed with that. Not just about losing her Dad but more recently she and everyone who mattered to her in London had lost a friend. Mary Watson.

"John Watson's wife was killed. She was a friend. So I know what that feels like."

Wilma reached across to take her daughter's hand. "I'm sorry. I saw the wedding video. She seemed lovely."

"She was. She had a past though, it seems. It's slightly why I'm upset with Sherlock." She decided she had to tell her.

"I thought so." She paused, "I know you know I'm not that fond of him but I shouldn't judge him if he makes you happy."

"About that." Molly started, retracting her hand so that she could pick up her tea and take a sip. She focused on the cup as she answered. "He does at times make me happy but it's complicated."

Wilma laughed shortly. "It's not supposed to be easy. Love, I mean. Do you think it was easy to even begin to date a man who was devoted to science as much as your father was?"

"Sherlock is a scientist, too you know?"

She nodded. "I figured. He has to be a bit more than that to get your attention I think though, Molly."

She had a point. "He's brilliant. Part of his charm I guess. He's also very lonely despite the company he keeps. He makes bad decisions. He lies because he thinks it's kinder. He pushes to get what he needs. He's infuriating but so good at the same time. I don't know why I can't shake him honestly. He could be so much more if he stopped being so chaotic just to prove a point but that's what makes him so interesting. I don't know."

"You in love with him." Her mother tells her, even though it's clear that she already knows that. It's obvious from the sigh she expels as she shakes her head a little.

"That's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

"I almost want to say you were right the last time you told me that he would do nothing but break my heart. Only he did something that almost contradicts that argument entirely."

Wilma hummed, waiting for Molly's confession.

It didn't come for awhile. So they sat there in silence, the lighting from the windows changed several times over before she finally told her mother. "He told me he loved me. It's the circumstances that make it a problem."

"A case?" Her mum guessed.

"I thought so. Much worse in fact. He thought my life was in danger but he didn't backpedal in the slightest. If he wanted to he could have. He could have made it seem like it never happened. I know he could have, he has it in him to forget powerful moments just because he doesn't think they're important. For some reason he thinks I'm important to not lie to anymore. To be honest with me and as much as that's what I need from him I haven't figured out if I can truly move forward just yet."

Wilma mulled over everything her daughter was telling her and the bits she chose to leave out. If she told her daughter that Mycroft Holmes had sent her a text minutes before her arrival to apologize for the state she most likely would be in when she came home once more, she wasn't sure if she would have believed it. Even with that aside the widow felt inclined to continue to be a sound voice when Molly was feeling distraught and distracted by the notion that the man she had been pining over for years had finally chosen her.

It wasn't like the movies by any means. But, it was real. Every word of it had meant something to her and to the detective that she was very inclined to meet now.

"Visit your Dad, then make your decision. I've made many choices by thinking of him or simply going to sit by his grave. It's oddly soothing to be out there away from the chaos of life. Among the dead." She chuckled. "It might be the one time I'm okay with being that way."

It was strange for Molly to see her mother so wise, and so happy when it came to talking about death, her father, and a man she could have sworn she wanted nothing to do with. Things change, she supposed.

"After we eat lunch I'll go and visit for a bit." She decided.

Wilma nodded and then invited her daughter into the kitchen where for the first time since Molly left the house, they had an enjoyable time making lunch and coming up with a plan for dinner. All worries were pushed to the side and it felt healthy even to laugh over the smallest of things.

-x-

The upkeep of Will(iam) Hooper's grave is better than the previous years that she had come around. She remembers her mum telling her that she liked sitting near it to reflect. Daughter like mother understands what she means as she's sitting by it in the fourth day in a row without having reached out to the detective. It's brings it's own brand of peace that she had long sought.

When she decides she wants to see Sherlock's face again she shoots him a text that gives nothing away over whether her answer has been decided. She's probably being mean but for some reason she doesn't think he minds it. She wish she didn't know him as well as she did.

It would make it easier for her to forget the trouble that lay ahead.

Sherlock arrives a day later, alone. He doesn't immediately rush her to tell him anything. She's sitting with her father again, something that had made her mother smile for some reason. A joke that he wasn't let in on.

Wilma Hooper was different than he imagined her to be. Very much like Molly but different too. He decided he liked her three minutes after she offered him honey with his croissant. She waited until he was almost done with it to tell him that Molly was visiting her father, and then passed him the directions of how to find her on foot.

He had driven out in a borrowed vehicle. He too needed time to think, and he had come to some decisions of his own that would work either way depending on why she wanted him to come to a place so personal for her in the first place.

He's taken off guard by the softness of Molly's features as she's leaned against one side of the stone that bares her father's name. She has a book in her hand.

The scene should be odd but he finds it rather fitting. There's something almost poetic about it too. He's a well read man but he had never cared too much for the author she's reading. All the same he considers waiting until she finishes but it lasts twenty minutes too long.

"Your mother is different than I imagined. Not unkind though." He stayed standing in his place about ten feet away from her, making sure to not step on anyone's graves. He respects the dead just as much as the living.

"We all go through changes." She quips as she turns the page, places a slip of paper to hold her place and then ever so slowly looks up at him.

He nods in response to her statement. "How are you, Molly?" He asks in earnest. They haven't seen each other in weeks.

Molly closes the book and sets it near some of the flowers on the grave. She doesn't stand up, she likes the feel of the soil. A memory slips through her mind of helping her father in the garden out behind the house. Her mother had expanded it in recent years.

She knew he could be asking two different versions of that question but she stuck to what she was feeling today. "I'm okay." She paused, wetting her lips. She had been awake about four hours and had only spoken to her mum when she had first got out of bed. She was parched but she could wait. "How is London?"

"Quiet. Not much noise. It's different when I know you're here." He didn't look at her as he said it. He was trying to be patient.

Molly smiled softly at him. "I'll be back in a couple days. It's quiet here too. Peaceful in a way. I've done a lot of thinking."

She sees him swallow before he looks at her again. He tried to look distance but his eyes had always been the key. He was worried, scared even.

It was a big step. Him wanting to be with someone. Someone he knew and cared for a great deal for years. She had questioned how long did he know that he was enamored with her. She realized it wasn't sudden. He liked to shelf emotions. It got in the way but this was different.

She rose to her feet, leaving the book there as she took a few steps towards him. He kept his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He was wearing a short sleeve shirt. She couldn't remember the last time he had done that beyond him leaving her house to give her time.

She realized she was packing away this moment. She didn't want to forget it. It wasn't a bad memory.

"I've always hated when you look like that. You should feel happy, Sherlock." His brow creased, he was anticipating. "This is going to take time." She gestured between the two of them.

His reaction was slow. He almost appeared as if he couldn't believe it. Then he did start to realize it. She was saying yes.

The soft smile that tugged on his mouth. "Sure?" He asked quietly.

"Do you need more time?" She mumbled, her hands fidgeting. His large hands stilled her own as he shook his head.

"Slow." He nodded.

Molly grinned. "Please."

He retracted one of his hands so that he could pull her towards him. Closer.

Sherlock Holmes was hugging Molly Hooper. A first in many first that they would have to take together.

She wrapped her arms around his back. He felt secure, whole, and overall certain that this was a good step.

She looked up at him after a beat. "Mind staying a little longer?"

"Please." He answered in return which made Molly start laughing.

They returned to the Hooper family home walking side by side.

This was just the beginning.

* * *

 **I know it's been awhile. I suffered through some serious writer's block - still not sure if it's completely gone but I've been working through this chapter to try to get back into things. I'm super happy the way it turned out. I hope you guys like it too.**

 **Also it may seem like this wraps up the ILY arc but it's not over yet. I think it took us awhile to get to that ending scene with Molly in Baker Street looking happy at Sherlock. I know we got some resolution in this part but like Sherlock says, 'Slow.'**

 **These two have a history and I love a good blank period. ;)**

 **Lemme know what you thought of it, please!  
**

 **much love,**

 **day**


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